We lived the life with Keith Moon. It was all Spinal Tap magnified a thousand times.
quote by Roger Daltrey
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The Hammers
I
Frindsbury, Kent, 1786
Bang!
Bang!
Tap!
Tap-a-tap! Rap!
All through the lead and silver Winter days,
All through the copper of Autumn hazes.
Tap to the red rising sun,
Tap to the purple setting sun.
Four years pass before the job is done.
Two thousand oak trees grown and felled,
Two thousand oaks from the hedgerows of the Weald,
Sussex had yielded two thousand oaks
With huge boles
Round which the tape rolls
Thirty mortal feet, say the village folks.
Two hundred loads of elm and Scottish fir;
Planking from Dantzig.
My! What timber goes into a ship!
Tap! Tap!
Two years they have seasoned her ribs on the ways,
Tapping, tapping.
You can hear, though there's nothing where you gaze.
Through the fog down the reaches of the river,
The tapping goes on like heart-beats in a fever.
The church-bells chime
Hours and hours,
Dropping days in showers.
Bang! Rap! Tap!
Go the hammers all the time.
They have planked up her timbers
And the nails are driven to the head;
They have decked her over,
And again, and again.
The shoring-up beams shudder at the strain.
Black and blue breeches,
Pigtails bound and shining:
Like ants crawling about,
The hull swarms with carpenters, running in and out.
Joiners, calkers,
And they are all terrible talkers.
Jem Wilson has been to sea and he tells some wonderful tales
Of whales, and spice islands,
And pirates off the Barbary coast.
He boasts magnificently, with his mouth full of nails.
Stephen Pibold has a tenor voice,
He shifts his quid of tobacco and sings:
[...] Read more
poem by Amy Lowell
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The Voice
Lord, have mercy
Bang! - A gunshot rings out
13-year-old baby falls 2 the ground
See the killer runnin' down the street
Tell me killer, can U hear the sound?
Tap, tap, tappin' on your window like a fallin' rain
Cryin' like a baby in a cradle sayin' pick me up again
Ching! - Mr. Politician goes on vacation
Brings along a friend or 2
In the disguise of taxes
Mr. Politician (sends) sends the bill 2 U know who
Tap, tap, tappin' on your window like a fallin' rain
(Tappin' on my window like a fallin' rain)
Cryin' like a baby in a cradle sayin' pick me up again
(Cryin' like a baby, pick me up)
Can't U hear the voice? (Oh yeah)
The nightsticks are still singin'
4-part harmony on brother's back
Justice is doomed when we don't start no S-H
And there's still some I-T in all of that
Tap, tap, tappin' on your window like a fallin' rain
(Can't U hear it tappin' like a fallin' rain fine-tune cryin' like a baby?)
Cryin' like a baby in a cradle sayin' pick me up again
(Pick me up, pick me up)
I'm talkin' about the voice, y'all
Ha, suky, suky now
Sho'mon (Tap)
Sho'mon (Tap)
Help me here (Tap)
Tappin' (Tap)
Tappin', tappin', ha ha (Tap)
Tap on it, tap on it (Tap) (Tap)
Can't U see it's just dirty money?
If your brother man is dyin' in the flow
Take off these chains (Tap) (Tap)
And listen 2 the voice callin' (Tap)
We gotta go, gotta go (Tap) (Tap)
Tap, tap, tappin' on your window like a fallin' rain
(Oh yeah, like a fallin' rain)
Cryin' like a baby in a cradle sayin' pick me up again
(Cryin' like a baby, pick me up, pick me up)
5-4-3-2-1, keep the war over (Tap)
But how many wanna keep the peace (Tap) (Tap)
We keep buildin' guns when we could build love (Tap)
(When we need 2 build love)
Cuz that's when the war will cease
U know it, U know it (Tap) (Tap)
Can't U hear the voices? (Tap) (Tap)
Can't U hear the sound? (Tap)
Take heed, get your house in order (Tap)
[...] Read more
song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]
POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR
POEMS
1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song
[...] Read more
poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
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Hard Currency
Five thousand dollars
Five thousand dollars
Five thousand dollars
Take it, take it
Five thousand dollars
Five thousand dollars
Five thousand dollars in cash
One hundred thousand
Two hundred thousand
Three hundred thousand
Why? !?
One hundred thousand
Two hundred thousand
Three hundred thousand
Why? !?
Five thousand dollars
Five thousand dollars
Five thousand dollars
Take it, take it
Five thousand dollars
Five thousand dollars
Five thousand dollars in cash
One hundred thousand
Two hundred thousand
Three hundred thousand
Why? !?
One hundred thousand
Two hundred thousand
Three hundred thousand
Why? !?
A half, a million dollars
A million dollars
Fourteen million
Why?
Ten million
Fourteen million
Dont you ever think of money?
Five thousand dollars
Five thousand dollars
Five thousand dollars
Take it, take it
Five thousand dollars
Five thousand dollars
Five thousand dollars in cash
One hundred thousand
Two hundred thousand
Three hundred thousand
Why? !?
One hundred thousand
Two hundred thousand
[...] Read more
song performed by Information Society
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ginger's Cobber
''E wears perjarmer soots an' cleans 'is teeth,'
That's wot I reads. It fairly knocked me flat,
'Me soljer cobber, be the name o' Keith.'
Well, if that ain't the limit, strike me fat!
The sort that Ginger Mick would think beneath
'Is notice once. Perjarmers! Cleans 'is teeth?
Ole Ginger Mick 'as sent a billy-doo
Frum somew'ere on the earth where fightin' thick.
The Censor wus a sport to let it thro',
Considerin' the choice remarks o' Mick.
It wus that 'ot, I'm wond'rin' since it came
It didn't set the bloomin' mail aflame.
I'd love to let yeh 'ave it word fer word;
But, strickly, it's a bit above the odds;
An' there's remarks that's 'ardly ever 'eard
Amongst the company to w'ich we nods.
It seems they use the style in Ginger's trench
Wot's written out an' 'anded to the Bench.
I tones the langwidge down to soot the ears
Of sich as me an' you resorts wiv now.
If I should give it jist as it appears
Partic'lar folk might want ter make a row.
But say, yeh'd think ole Ginger wus a pote
If yeh could read some juicy bits 'e's wrote.
It's this noo pal uv 'is that tickles me;
'E's got a mumma, an' 'is name is Keith.
A knut upon the Block le used to be,
'Ome 'ere; the sort that flashes golden teeth,
An' wears 'or socks, an' torks a lot o' guff;
But Ginger sez they're cobbers till they snuff.
It come about like this: Mick spragged 'im first
Fer swankin' it too much abroad the ship.
'E 'ad nice manners an' 'e never cursed;
Which set Mick's teeth on edge, as you may tip.
Likewise, 'e 'ad two silver brushes, w'ich
'Is mumma give 'im, 'cos 'e fancied sich.
Mick pinched 'em. Not, as you will understand,
Becos uv any base desire fer loot,
But jist becos, in that rough soljer band,
Them silver-backed arrangements didn't soot:
An' etiket must be observed always.
(They fetched ten drinks in Cairo, Ginger says.)
That satisfied Mick's honour fer a bit,
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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There Is A New Door In My House
There is a new 'door' in the little boy's house,
Where there was not one before,
A new 'cat shaped' hole' in the kitchen,
a new 'cat sized' hole in the door.
'But what about locks and bolts? ' the little boy asked,
Tugging at his my mum's loose apron strings.
'To keep out ghosts and scary monsters',
'and all those horrible night time things.'
'We don't need locks' the boy's mum said,
'Its only cats that can get through'.
'But what about 'cat' sized monsters,
or ghosts of that size too? '
'Go to bed now', the boy's mum said,
'What are you worrying for? '
'It's ghosts and scary monsters mum
that would fit nicely through that door? '
He went up the stairs to his room,
And tried to get to sleep,
But was thinking of ghosts and scary monsters,
Not happy jumping sheep.
'Tap, Tap', he woke, that noise (he thought) ,
It came up from the ground floor! ,
A tap, tap, tap, at the cat flap,
A noise from the cat shaped door.
A shiver ran stright down the little boy's spine,
Is it monster or a ghost?
Shaking, he crept straight down the stairs thinking 'what would scare me most? '
He crawled right up to the cat flap,
To see what was at the door,
Was it the ghosts or scary monsters,
The boy was thinking of before?
He peered into the gloom of the flap,
He strained his eyes to see,
'What might it have been that made that Tap, ,
Waiting out there for me? '.
'Tap, Tap... Tap, Tap...
Again, the noise from the flap,
Tap, Tap from the cat sized door,
Two green and bulbous eyes were there,
That were not there before.
The boy sat still, afraid to move,
[...] Read more
poem by Alexander Johnson
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Ego Trippin' 2000
[c.gee] spaceman on the bass..
Classic..
Party peoples, in the place to be
Just for you, it's the ultra-magnetic, mc's!
[c.gee] yeah...
[keith] say what, peter piper?
[c.gee] to hell with childish rhymes!
[keith] cause this jam is just movin
[c.gee] the crowd is steady groovin
[keith] to a supersonic pace
[c.gee] with highs and stupid bass
[keith] with some pep
[c.gee] and the step
[ultra] cause the beat is so funky the pace is well kept
Cause we're..
"ultra.." {magnetic, magnetic} doo doo doo-doo
"mc's ultra.." {magnetic, magnetic} doo doo doo-doo
"mc's ultra.." {magnetic, magnetic} doo doo doo-doo "mc's"
[c.gee] so what's his name? uhh
[keith] i'm kool keith
[kool keith]
They use the simple back and forth, the same, old rhythm
That a baby can pick up, and join, right with them
But their rhymes are pathetic, they think they copacetic
Youse a nerds that returns, at least, not poetic
On a educated base, intelligent wise
As the record just turn, you learn, plus burn
By the flame of the lyrics which cooks the human brain
Providing overheating knowledge, by means causing pain
Make a migraine, hated yourself, start to melt
While the technics spin, the wax is on the belt
Motivating clockwise the more you realize
Moe love's moving steady, by most, with everready
Like a battery, charged, i'm worth the alkaline
Yes the mystery to solve, so seek and define
These words i've given, extremely now driven
With a datsun, a maxima to glide
Yes the wizard kool keith and i'm sportin my ride
Cause we're
"ultra.." {magnetic, magnetic} doo doo doo-doo
"mc's ultra.." {magnetic, magnetic} doo doo doo-doo
"mc's ultra.." {magnetic, magnetic} doo doo doo-doo "mc's"
[c.gee] yeah, what's my name?
Uhh, ced gee
[ced gee]
Usin frequencies and data, i am approximate
Leaving revolutions turning, emerging chemistry
With the precise implications, acheived, ??
Explorating demonstrating, ruling, dominating
Igniting causing friction with nu-clear alarms
[...] Read more
song performed by Ultramagnetic Mc's
Added by Lucian Velea
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Moon, Moon, Crazy Moon
moon, moon, crazy moon
natural moon
torn apart and snoozing moon;
lovely moon, romantic moon
poor poor moon
the romance
plucked out of its drab surface;
moon moon going wild
moon moon running away
from the earth -
O moon, why do you run away from the earth?
does earth touch you in the wrong places
and you've got no Body
to which one could lodge
a complaint about sexual harassment? ?
ah, moon moon, temperamental moon
dark moon
glowing moon;
sexy moon
and old-woman hag of a moon;
moon moon with the best views of the earth
moon moon moon
puts me to sleep and wakes me up
in the middle of nights;
and one day we'll sleep in the moon
and produce babies there
and we'll have the first moon-ish boys and girls
and moon-ly families;
but meanwhile
moon moon driving fanatics
and inspiring love and romance and myths
moon moon eerie moon
moon moon that presides over love and horrors
and evil and good
and naked witches dancing in moonlit groves;
pooor moon moon the earth moon
not as interesting and dramatic as other moons;
don't get too friendly and dropp in -
oh, never dropp in, no one invited you
silly mooonn, no no, you're not invited home to earth
moon moon cheese moon eaten by mice;
but still our dear moon darling moon
moon mooon
our very own earth's moon
as we moo moo like cows
moo moo moo mooo
at our own moon moon moon
poem by Raj Arumugam
Added by Poetry Lover
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Keith B-real 1
(keith)my name is keith b-real and i'm will smiths cousin
(will)keith, whatchu doin?
(keith)uh, nutin will nutin
(woman)wow! your're his cousin?!?
(keith)uh, will let me expla-
(will)keith!!!!!! you are a liar and a half!
(keith)i just couldn't help myself will...your're the most famous guy i know
(will)we met yesterday in a strip club...i barely even know you
(keith)well i know your sister, uh hillary
(will)she was on the fresh prince of bel-air, keith! it's a show!
(keith)uh, i gotta go. see ya later will{the sound of his feet running}
(will)boy, come back here!{the sound of will's feet running, now}
song performed by Will Smith
Added by Lucian Velea
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C Moon
C moon c moon c moon is she.
C moon c moon c moon to me.
How come no one older than me
Ever seems to understand the things I wanna to do?
It will be l7 and Id never get to heaven
If I filled my head with glue
Whats it all to you?
C moon, c moon, c moon is she
C moon, c moon, c moon to me
Bobby lived with patty
But they never told her daddy
What their love was all about
She could tell her lover that he thought but
She never was the type to let it out
Whats it all about?
C moon, c moon, oh c moon are we
C moon, c moon, c moon are we
How come no one older than me
Ever seems to understand the things I wanna to do?
It will be l7 and Id never get to heaven
If I filled my head with glue
Whats it all to you?
C moon, c moon, c moon is she
C moon, c moon, c moon to me
Bobby lived with patty
But they never told her daddy
What their love was all about
She could tell her lover that he thought but
She never wanted to let it out
Whats it all about?
C moon, c moon, c moon are we
C moon, c moon, c moon are we
Well whats it all about?
C moon, c moon, c moon are we
C moon are we
song performed by Paul McCartney
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Third Monarchy, being the Grecian, beginning under Alexander the Great in the 112. Olympiad.
Great Alexander was wise Philips son,
He to Amyntas, Kings of Macedon;
The cruel proud Olympias was his Mother,
She to Epirus warlike King was daughter.
This Prince (his father by Pausanias slain)
The twenty first of's age began to reign.
Great were the Gifts of nature which he had,
His education much to those did adde:
By art and nature both he was made fit,
To 'complish that which long before was writ.
The very day of his Nativity
To ground was burnt Dianaes Temple high:
An Omen to their near approaching woe,
Whose glory to the earth this king did throw.
His Rule to Greece he scorn'd should be confin'd,
The Universe scarce bound his proud vast mind.
This is the He-Goat which from Grecia came,
That ran in Choler on the Persian Ram,
That brake his horns, that threw him on the ground
To save him from his might no man was found:
Philip on this great Conquest had an eye,
But death did terminate those thoughts so high.
The Greeks had chose him Captain General,
Which honour to his Son did now befall.
(For as Worlds Monarch now we speak not on,
But as the King of little Macedon)
Restless both day and night his heart then was,
His high resolves which way to bring to pass;
Yet for a while in Greece is forc'd to stay,
Which makes each moment seem more then a day.
Thebes and stiff Athens both 'gainst him rebel,
Their mutinies by valour doth he quell.
This done against both right and natures Laws,
His kinsmen put to death, who gave no cause;
That no rebellion in in his absence be,
Nor making Title unto Sovereignty.
And all whom he suspects or fears will climbe,
Now taste of death least they deserv'd in time,
Nor wonder is t if he in blood begin,
For Cruelty was his parental sin,
Thus eased now of troubles and of fears,
Next spring his course to Asia he steers;
Leavs Sage Antipater, at home to sway,
And through the Hellispont his Ships made way.
Coming to Land, his dart on shore he throws,
Then with alacrity he after goes;
And with a bount'ous heart and courage brave,
His little wealth among his Souldiers gave.
And being ask'd what for himself was left,
Reply'd, enough, sith only hope he kept.
[...] Read more
poem by Anne Bradstreet
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When I Burn
[ced gee]
Aiyyo kool keith
Man i hooked this beat up just for you in the ultra lab man
So yo i want you to dog it, man youknahmsayin?
[kool keith]
Yeahhh
[ced gee]
Aight man, so ease back, y'know kick the lyrics man
[kool keith]
Word up
[ced gee]
Go for yours, aight do it man, right now
[kool keith]
Aight..
Yo i'm on, with the freaky style
When you wait debate and rate my
Rhythm expansion, dimension lyric extension
Rise above, amazing days
Crashin your brain, changin ways, sore for days
Figurin out
Many channels, triggerin out forth
I'm sendin, brains are bendin
Like metal, crust to rust corrode
And low stacks, pick up the was while you ask
How you do it, show me through it
I never knew it, could be done, no way my son
Cause i'm the one, smackin em up, stackin em up
Boxin you ducks
Packin em up, cause i burn
[ced gee]
Aiyyo keith man, that was kinda of dope man
But you know what man?
I want you to increase your metaphor, you know uh
Make it better for, somethin like that man, aight?
[kool keith]
Yeah i know what you mean, like this right?
[ced gee]
Yeah man
[kool keith]
Aight watch..
Droppin the word to make you think
You're buggin and illin out on, vocab
Connect the ?, then switch it
Changin range easily, steadily
Slow it down, ride the beat, throw em down
And sweepin em down
Mc's, all dirt on the floor
Stand back in fact you're wack to prove to me
That you're ready to be and willin to see, rhymes flow
Match and go, deep in your brain so
[...] Read more
song performed by Ultramagnetic Mc's
Added by Lucian Velea
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Kool Keith Housing Things
[kool keith]
Well i'm sonically, high bionically
For you dummies, ironically stupid
What are you, cupid?
You steal my rhymes, and then you loop it
Wrong! back this way
Follow me now, head this way
Into this, while i rap on through this
For many germs, who never knew this
Switches, upside down
Turn around, look in the mirror
You rap catchers are makin a error
Every inning, i'm back to the dugout
You on the field, i'm ready to bugout
Like a manager, smackin up your team
Male or female, ducks who dream
Of takin me, on the mic and makin me
Rack up, mc's i stack up
Foreign precinct rappers need to back up
Quickly, i'ma rip your brain off
Throw it down so the blood can drain off
My hands, while i wave to a fan
I'm kool keith, not a bill or a dan
But a general, equal to a mineral
Pushin a crowd, to keep on dancin
I'm housing things
{moe love cuts up "kool keith"}
[kool keith]
Now i'm back, to continue my verses
I'm never screamin loud with any curses
Rougly, that a child can learn
I teach kids, and ducks that burn
With a flamethrower, and how do you show a
A grass rapper, cut him with a lawnmower
Twice, into golden wheat
Ground the rest into moldin meat
And cook em, til they all well done
They not ready, they don't smell done
Like fish, it ain't my favorite dish
I grab a steak and to battle i wish
A coke mc or pepsi i'll sip up
Drop your face and bring the other lip up
Watch, while i stun and amaze you
Kick out lyrics that truly'll daze you
I'm your boss, the one that pays you
Nine to five, all ducks are hired
And when i come mc's are fired
No pay, no way today
You're an employer with nothin to say
But i can say, one thing for sure
[...] Read more
song performed by Ultramagnetic Mc's
Added by Lucian Velea
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Saga Of Dandy, The Devil & Day
[kool keith]
Why don't y'all play that pitch
The right manage gonna be in the game
[moe love]
It's the top of the ninth
Josh gibson is at the plate
The bases are loaded, it's a three and two count
And here's the pitch
[kool keith]
Steppin up to the plate, first batter
[moe love]
Kool keith
[kool keith]
Black baseball, it was a known fact jack
With the weather so hot, who could play like danny day
The greatest and the best, like the satchel brother paige
Long tom and little bomb, in the hall of fame
Like josh and bunt, be alert, duck
Everybody was down for beer and peanuts
Foxes in their sunday's best, their brightest dress
[moe love]
And on deck, ced g
[ced g]
Now baseball today troop, is mostly not racial
But back in the days it was all segregated
The whites had the majors and then the blacks had the negro leagues
They both had great talent but then us blacks have no history
Of all our great players, the teams in the ballpark
But we're here to shed light, restore the glory they haven't got
Black baseball, they paved the way
With players like dandy, the devil, and day
(repeat 3x)
Black baseball
[moe love]
Bring er home
[ced g]
Now the ballparks they played in was very far from a stadium
They only sat hundreds troops as opposed to the thousands
But the stands they was packed, for the league that was fat
With teams like the baccarats and the homestead grays
The eagles and many more, came ready to play
In cities like birmingham, newark and chi-town
The bus trips were very long, paychecks would bring a frown
But not to these players, cause they really loved baseball
You could ban them from majors, but not from the game
With players like leon day, who pitched almost every day
His arm would hold up, blowin hitters with smoke away
And then there was bullet joe, also was smokey joe
King richard and savateen, and brothers like ed pole
Next, batter up!
[...] Read more
song performed by Ultramagnetic Mc's
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mr. Moon: A Song of the Little People
O MOON, Mr. Moon,
When you comin' down?
Down on the hilltop,
Down in the glen,
Out in the clearin',
To play with little men?
Moon, Mr. Moon,
When you comin' down?
O Mr. Moon,
Hurry up your stumps!
Don't you hear Bullfrog
Callin' to his wife,
And old black Cricket
A-wheezin' at his fife?
Hurry up your stumps,
And get on your pumps!
Moon, Mr. Moon,
When you comin' down?
O Mr. Moon,
Hurry up along!
The reeds in the current
Are whisperin' slow;
The river's a-wimplin'
To and fro.
Hurry up along,
Or you'll miss the song!
Moon, Mr. Moon,
When you comin' down?
O Mr. Moon,
We're all here!
Honey-bug, Thistledrift,
White-imp, Weird,
Wryface, Billiken,
Quidnunc, Queered;
We're all here,
And the coast is clear!
Moon, Mr. Moon,
When you comin' down?
O Mr. Moon,
We're the little men!
Dewlap, Pussymouse,
Ferntip, Freak,
Drink-again, Shambler,
Talkytalk, Squeak;
Three times ten
Of us little men!
[...] Read more
poem by Bliss William Carman
Added by Poetry Lover
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The House Of Dust: Complete
I.
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
II.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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A Girl Like You
You go to sleep, I want to sail in your hair
And when you speak, you know you got to make sense
You want to say that it's me you know less
I say a girl like you, she was born to be blessed
My hands are yours, and you can take them from me
And take my mouth, I have nothing to say
I want to fly to some other place
I say a girl like you, she was born to be kissed
Born to be kissed
One thousand times and your sisters too
One thousand times, a girl like you
You're gonna say that you want to be free
But when you fall, you'll know you'll fall back to me
You want to fly, and there's no disgrace
I say a girl like you, she was born to be blessed
My hands are yours cause I don't know how to pray
Take my mouth, I have nothing to say
I lift my heart up to a higher place
Up to a girl like you, who was born to be kissed
Oh, born to be kissed
One thousand times and your sisters too
One thousand times, a girl like you
One thousand times and your sisters too
One thousand times, a girl like you
One thousand times and your mother too
One thousand times, a girl like you
One thousand times and your sisters too
One thousand times, a girl like you
Aw-w-w-w, yeahhhh
And your sisters too
One thousand times, a girl like you
Ooooh, one thousand times and your sisters too
One thousand times, I said a girl like you
Ooooh, one thousand times and your sisters too.
song performed by Tom Jones
Added by Lucian Velea
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First Book
OF writing many books there is no end;
And I who have written much in prose and verse
For others' uses, will write now for mine,–
Will write my story for my better self,
As when you paint your portrait for a friend,
Who keeps it in a drawer and looks at it
Long after he has ceased to love you, just
To hold together what he was and is.
I, writing thus, am still what men call young;
I have not so far left the coasts of life
To travel inland, that I cannot hear
That murmur of the outer Infinite
Which unweaned babies smile at in their sleep
When wondered at for smiling; not so far,
But still I catch my mother at her post
Beside the nursery-door, with finger up,
'Hush, hush–here's too much noise!' while her sweet eyes
Leap forward, taking part against her word
In the child's riot. Still I sit and feel
My father's slow hand, when she had left us both,
Stroke out my childish curls across his knee;
And hear Assunta's daily jest (she knew
He liked it better than a better jest)
Inquire how many golden scudi went
To make such ringlets. O my father's hand,
Stroke the poor hair down, stroke it heavily,–
Draw, press the child's head closer to thy knee!
I'm still too young, too young to sit alone.
I write. My mother was a Florentine,
Whose rare blue eyes were shut from seeing me
When scarcely I was four years old; my life,
A poor spark snatched up from a failing lamp
Which went out therefore. She was weak and frail;
She could not bear the joy of giving life–
The mother's rapture slew her. If her kiss
Had left a longer weight upon my lips,
It might have steadied the uneasy breath,
And reconciled and fraternised my soul
With the new order. As it was, indeed,
I felt a mother-want about the world,
And still went seeking, like a bleating lamb
Left out at night, in shutting up the fold,–
As restless as a nest-deserted bird
Grown chill through something being away, though what
It knows not. I, Aurora Leigh, was born
To make my father sadder, and myself
Not overjoyous, truly. Women know
The way to rear up children, (to be just,)
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sunday at Hampstead
I
(AN VERY IDLE IDYLL BY A VERY HUMBLE MEMBER OF THE GREAT AND NOBLE LONDON MOB.)
This is the Heath of Hampstead,
This is the Dome of Saint Paul’s;
Beneath, on the serried house-tops,
A chequered luster falls:
And the might city of London,
Under the clouds and the light,
Seems a low, wet beach, half shingle,
With a few sharp rocks upright.
Here we sit, my darling,
And dream an hour away:
The donkeys are hurried and worried,
But we are not donkeys to-day:
Through all the weary week, dear,
We toil in the murk down there,
Tied to a desk and a counter,
A patient, stupid pair!
But on Sunday we slip our thether,
And away from the smoke and the smirch;
Too grateful to God for His Sabbath
To shut its hours in a church.
Away to the green, green country,
Under the open sky;
Where the earth’s sweet breath is incense
And the lark sings psalms on high.
On Sunday we’re Lord and Lady,
With ten times the love and glee
Of those pale, languid rich ones
Who are always and never free.
The drawl and stare and simper,
So fine and cold and staid,
Like exquisite waxwork figures
That must be kept in the shade.
We can laugh out loud when merry,
We can romp at kiss-in-the-ring,
We can take our beer at a public,
We can loll on the grass and sing.
Would you grieve very much, my darling,
[...] Read more
poem by James Thomson
Added by Poetry Lover
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